Cloud Descends
by DiggBik
Summary: Exhausted after a battle on the Northern Continent, Cloud sees something which can only be a hallucination. But what if it isn't? Horror and adventure ten years after FF7. No AC, no spin offs.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Seperatist fell with a groan and a huge red smile in his guts and with him went the last sound of battle. Silence reigned across the blood-stained snow and the sun glittered, sometimes blindingly, on the ice crystals. The dead lay where they had fallen; occasionally at peace, often in pieces. They stared at the sun with dead eyes and reached for their weapons with nerveless hands and Cloud thought that they would be preserved that way forever, like a chocobo fillet left at the bottom of a freezer.

As far as Cloud could tell he was the only survivor of the battle. He had been injured, he couldn't quite say when, but his left arm had been slashed by something with a sharp edge and his hip and been grazed by a bullet, presumably a friendly one. The Seperatists usually didn't carry guns, they were all about the command materia. The wounds were minor but his warm clothing had been pierced and he wasn't exactly carrying a needle a thread. This cold could take fingers, toes, noses. Even arms. Cloud set about looking for a new, undamaged coat, stepping in snow up to his knees as he went, but even with the amount of quickly cooling bodies lying around him he didn't expect to find one. He'd just have to take the biggest jacket he could find, holes and all, and wrap himself in it.

There was a crunch as a boot broke the snow and Cloud spun to face it, sword in hand. A dishevelled but thickly wrapped figure stood before him, long spear ready in his hands. 'I was hoping it wouldn't be you,' said a rough voice.

Cloud sunk into a low guard and stared him down like snake ready to strike. He didn't reply.

'You're a cold bastard,' the man with the spear said.

The swordsman shifted his weight and prepared to leap over the snow, his Jump command materia already glowing dully in his armlet. He had to be ready, he knew that this one could leap just as well as he could. He'd seen it many times. 'What should I tell the others?' Cloud asked.

The spearman's face was half covered by his cold weather gear but his eyes frowned. 'Tell them...' he sighed, 'tell them that just cos they're on the winning side, it don't mean they're on the right side.'

Cloud jumped and half a second later his opponent followed. The weapons clanged against each other and the snowflakes were lit by sparks as metal met metal. Cloud landed and half a second later his opponent followed.

Cloud stayed on his feet. His opponent didn't.

He leaned on his sword for a moment, clutching his chest. The Seperatist had pierced his armour with a nasty thrust and only Cloud's agility had allowed him to avoid being skewered. Examining it now he found that he had a jagged cut across his chest, one day it would be a vicious scar. He hadn't been much for aesthetics recently so he didn't particularly care about that, but he did care about the blood he was losing. He suddenly felt groggy and spots filled his vision. He stumbled and caught himself on one knee.

A silvery laugh cut through his dizziness, and his sight cleared slowly. He looked up; there was a strangeness about all the landscape that he couldn't describe — an unfamiliar tinge to earth and sky. But he didn't have time to think about it. Before him, swaying like a sapling in the wind, stood a woman. Her body was like ivory to his dazed gaze, and save for a light scrap of pink cloth, she was naked. Her slender bare feet were whiter than the snow they skated on. She laughed down at the bewildered warrior. Her laughter was sweeter than the rippling of soft water in an oasis and Cloud's eyes widened as they fell on her face.

'I thought...'

She smiled and flicked her long braid out to her side lazily. 'Were you thinking of me?'

Suddenly Cloud was on two knees. 'Always.'

'That's sad, Cloud. So sad.' She grinned, her cheeks dimpling. She danced on delicate toes, twirling with unreal grace. Cloud couldn't help himself, he looked at parts of her that weren't her face, parts even lovelier. She didn't fall through the snow but tip toed across the top of it as if she weighed nothing.

'I thought you were dead.'

She laughed. 'Am I beautiful, Cloud?'

His head hurt to look at her, both his heads. 'I thought... I thought I lost you...'

'Oh Cloud! Don't be silly. How could you lose me? Am I a spare gil?'

'But I saw the sword... I saw your wound...' He found that he was reaching for her but she wasn't close enough. He felt drunk.

'Do you want to be with me, darling?' How could eyes look so innocent and so alluring at the same time? There was something more than mischief there and Cloud felt that his chest and his trousers were suddenly too tight. The hairs on his arms stood on end from more than the cold.

'Of course,' he choked. 'I want that more than anything.' He lurched forward but she danced backwards out of his reach, leaving him to clumsily fall in the snow.

'Then you must follow me,' she laughed. 'Don't lose me again...'

She retreated over the snow, never turning her back on him. The movement of her legs didn't seem to bear any relation to the distance she covered, she just moved them prettily from side to side as she drifted away like a feather on a pond.

'Wait!' Cloud shouted and jumped to his feet. He forgot the dead men all around him, he forgot his mission and he forgot his dead friend, not five meters away. All he could think about was that slim female shape, receding across a blank plain of white.

He plunged forward, his pulse pounding in his chest, his head and his loins. The drifts broke under his heavy boots and he had to lift his knees high to make any progress, but soon he was running, ignoring the sting of his wounds and the ache in his legs. 'Come back!' he shouted.

'Catch me!' she giggled with a trace of cruelty that was lost on its audience.

Cloud bore his teeth in determination. He wouldn't lose her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cloud drew on reserves of strength even he never knew he had and soon the landscape began to change. The wide plains gave way to low hills, marching upward in broken ranges. Far to the north he caught a glimpse of towering mountains, blue with distance and white with snow. Above these mountains shone the flaring rays of an aurora. They spread like a Wutai fan into the sky, frosty blades of cold light, changing in color, growing and brightening and then vanishing like the dreams of a dead girl as she is lowered into a lake.

Above him the skies glowed and crackled with strange light. The snow shone weirdly, now frosty blue, now icy crimson, now cold silver. Through a shimmering icy realm of enchantment Cloud plunged doggedly onward, trapped in a snowglobe where the only reality was the white body dancing across the glittering tundra beyond his reach – always just beyond his reach.

Cloud had settled into a rhythm now. He no longer felt the ache in his legs or the stab of his headaches, he only felt the fire in his veins and the memory of her as he lowered her into that still water not so far from where he was at that moment. Was that it? Was she leading him there? He couldn't afford to dwell on it. He couldn't afford to think, so he wouldn't. He couldn't risk anything entering his head that would distract him from his task or dilute his concentration. Even his personal well-being was pushed to one side, his bare, bloody chest open to the arctic winds.

The girl drifted out of sight for a moment and Cloud shouted, 'wait!' and spurred himself onwards, even harder. He spotted her again a moment later and growled to himself in determination, spitting froth as he ran. His legs became as strong and brittle as old iron and gradually he gained on her.

Suddenly she stopped, still more than a hundred meters away, and opened her arms to him. That light piece of pink cloth drifted away from her in the wind and she held it only for the sake of holding it, making no attempt to cover her nudity. The only colours he could see were the auburn of her hair, the green of her eyes and the pink of her nipples. 'Oh, Cloud!' She called, 'I missed you!' He almost fell over himself to reach her, his lungs exploding in his chest.

She was fifty meters away, then twenty, then ten. Then the snow exploded to his left and right and something heavy thudded next to him, knocking him off his feet.

'My brothers! Look what I brought you!' She called, skipping away and laughing happily.

Two giants bore down on him, two-handed hammers poised over gaping, black mouths. The links of their armour were white with frost; their helmets and their hammers were covered with ice. Snow sprinkled their greasy hair; in their beards were the spikes of icicles and their eyes were as cold as everything else in that place.

And she laughed over it all, as if at the best joke she had ever heard, made all the better because she had told it. The giants answered with roars like the grinding of icebergs and raised their warhammers as Cloud recovered and hurled himself at them. The girl gestured and the sun shone on the ice, blinding him, but he gave back a terrible stroke that sheared through his nearest enemy's thigh. With a groan the victim fell and moment later Cloud was dashed into the snow, his left shoulder numb from the blow of the survivor. His armour had saved his life. Cloud saw the remaining giant looming high above him like a colossus carved of ice, silhouetted against the glowing sky. The hammer fell but sunk through nothing but snow and frozen earth as Cloud rolled aside and leaped to his feet. The giant roared and wrenched his hammer free, but even as he did, Cloud's sword sliced down. The giant's knees bent and he sank slowly into the snow, which turned crimson with the blood that gushed from his half-severed neck.

Cloud wheeled, to see the girl standing a short distance away, staring at him in wide-eyed horror, all her smiles lost with no trace. He gestured to the corpses, blood-drops flying from his sword. 'Any more brothers?' he asked, his voice colder than Shiva's gaze.

With a cry of fright she turned and ran, actually ran. Cloud assumed she was finished with floating. She wasn't laughing now, or mocking him over her white shoulder. She ran for her life, and though he strained until his temples were ready to burst and the snow swam red in his vision, she drew away from him and dwindled in the distance, until she was a figure no bigger than a child, then a dancing white flame on the snow, then a dim blur in the distance. He ground his teeth until the blood came from his gums, he reeled on, and he saw the blur grow to a dancing white flame, and the flame to a figure big as a child; and then she was running less than a hundred meters ahead of him, and slowly the space narrowed, foot by foot.

She was running with effort now, her waistlength braid of soft brown hair blowing free; he heard the quick panting of her breath, and saw a flash of fear in the look she cast over her white shoulder. Cloud's endurance served him well. He had saved the world once, afterall. The speed bled from her flashing white legs. She had fanned the flames in his blood and now she was going to burn in them. He closed in on her, eerily silent, just as she wheeled with a haunting cry and flung out her arms to fend him off.

Cloud reached out to her, palms first, the tickle of his Fire materia surging to his fingers. He would melt this ice witch, this sick siren that toyed with his greatest pain. Fire 3 blasted out from him, almost knocking him off his tired legs. He was standing much too close and the concussion set his ears ringing. His eyebrows were badly singed.

When the fire subsided there was nothing left but scorched earth. He had expected to find more. He moved the ash with his boot but he couldn't tell if it was her or just burned ground and she had used some spell to get away.

The wind suddenly whipped up and he raised his arm to his face, finding a pink cloth wrapped neatly around his forearm. He used it to wipe the icicles from his cheeks.

His wounds and exhaustion caught up to him. He took two faultering steps and fell face first into the snow.

In a cold dark universe, with a cold dark sun, Cloud felt the movement of life steal into his body like an alien invader. An earthquake had him in its grip and was shaking him to and fro, at the same time chafing his hands and feet until he growled in pain and groped for his sword.

'He's alive,' said a voice.

'He won't open his left hand,' growled another. 'He's holding something — '

Cloud opened his eyes and stared into scarved, bespectacled faces that bent over him. Two men in warm, black clothes wearing sunglasses against the arctic glare watched him with something approaching, but not quite, sympathy. Turks.

They waited for him to speak, wondering if they should help him up. He didn't speak and he got up under his own power. Reno eyed the wound on his chest, 'Glad to see you're in good shape.'

Cloud stumbled and Rude caught him. The blonde man met Reno's gaze and the Turk glanced away, as if casually. He didn't comment as Cloud shoved some pink cloth into his pocket.

Reno decided to update him. 'We found the bodies a few hours ago and noticed, only slightly disappointedly, you weren't among them. So we thought we'd follow your tracks. Why the hell did you wander off? If a blizzard had come up there'd have been no tracks, Cloud. We'd have never found you. Your only chance of being thawed out would've been in the bellies of a pack of wolves.'

Cloud sighed and tried to stand under his own power. He stood on shaky legs and accepted a large, slightly tattered, winter coat from Rude. He wrapped it around himself and began rubbing at his own midriff, trying to force some warmth into it. He couldn't feel his fingers except as icy sausages poking at his own body. His feet were dead logs of frozen wood.

The Northern horizon groaned like a pack of zombies and Rude squinted at it under his sunglasses. 'Storms comin',' he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They headed South, first Rude supported Cloud and then after a while Reno took over. The scenery never changed, white on white on white, just snow blown ito different shapes. They trudged through the drifts on aching legs, cursing and growling as they went. Cloud began to think they were lost. 'Water,' he said.

They took a break and Rude gave him the canteen. Cloud's useless hands couldn't grasp it so the bald Turk put it as close to Cloud's lips as he could without actually touching them. In this temperature Cloud's flesh would've stuck to the rim like it was superglued to it.

Reno kicked out at a snow drift, surprising himself. He didn't know that he still had the energy left to kick a snow drift. 'We're fucked, gents. Royally fucked.'

Cloud put his hands in his armpits, his teeth chattering as Rude hovered close by in case he fell over again. They said nothing.

Reno was slouched like a sad goblin. 'Shouldn't it be getting warmer the further South we get? Nothings changing.'

Rude looked North and saw angry, grey skies. Every now and then they crackled with blue light. 'We need to get moving. Our tent'll get torn to pieces in that.'

'We are fucked. Absolutely. Positively.' Reno paused to look at Rude. 'Fucked.'

With that he turned and pushed his way through the next snow drift, kicking up snow as he went. Then he stopped again and gestured his companions to come closer.

'Guys, look at this. Footprints.' The head of the Turks was right. One set of footprints, deep and neat, heading East. 'What do you think?'

'They're recent,' Rude mused. 'And with that storm coming they'll definitely be heading for shelter.'

'Unless he's as lost as we are.' Reno muttered.

Cloud coughed and shivered, the others pretended not to hear.

Rude pointed. 'He's heading East with a purpose. Look at these prints. Theres no wandering, its a straight line. And he's breaking the snow straight down, he's not dragging his feet. This guy knows where he's going.'

Reno shrugged. 'Fine. Lets get on it.'

The prints looked so fresh that they kept expecting to see the stranger's back labouring ahead of them, but no matter how far they followed the horizon was bare. There was nothing to see except that one long snake of footprints dwindling off into the distance, nothing to hear except the grumble of the storm as it came closer.

The Turk with red hair poking out of the sides of his furry hat was leading the way. 'What the fuck is going on now?'

Rude and Cloud caught up and stared at the prints ahead of them. Where there had been one person there were now two, as if another person had jumped out of the other's head and started walking beside him, perfectly in parallel. Or as if someone had been following close behind, carefully treading in each of his prints as he went.

'So there are two of them?' Reno asked.

'At least,' said Rude.

'They're hiding their numbers, then.'

'Yeah, boss. If one could stand in his buddy's tracks then, well...'

'...More than one could.'

Reno started swearing to himself using words Cloud had never heard before, even after years of travelling with Barrett and Cid.

_Cid..._

Cloud pulled his scarf over his nose and tightened it. 'Seperatists?' asked Rude, rubbing behind his sunglasses.

Reno shrugged. 'Maybe. But why would they reveal their numbers now?' He asked. 'In the middle of nowhere?'

The bald Turk didn't answer, he just shrugged and looked at the storm. The others followed his gaze. Cloud coughed again. 'It doesn't matter what they are,' he muttered. 'We can't stay here.'

They followed the tracks a little further only to find another set of feet breaking off and walking in parallel. And then another and another. They turned South towards some purple mountains which suddenly loomed up over the tundra and the trio still followed them. And still other pairs joined the ones already going in the direction, as if they were following a Russian doll which was able to spit out endless copies of itself, except that they were exactly the same size. By Cloud's count there were seven individuals in the group ahead, walking shoulder to shoulder.

Suddenly, they were under the mountains. The footprints led to the foot of one of them and Cloud could see a dark cave there, partially obscured by a boulder. As they got closer Cloud got the impression that Reno wanted to say something, perhaps a one-liner, but he didn't have the energy.

He found the energy a moment later. 'What the fuck is this bullshit?'

The footprints, all seven sets, went up to about five meters from the mouth of the cave. And then they vanished, with no trace of the people who left them.

'What did they do?' Reno said tiredly, 'jump the last bit?'

The cave was pitch black and strangely dead, as if once it had been so much more than a cave. To Cloud's snow-dazzled eyes it looked depthless and he was suddenly scared that gravity would suddenly lurch in the wrong direction and he would fall through it forever. Perhaps it had been the lair of a monster, perhaps it still was. Perhaps it was the jaws of a monster and they were walking cluelessly into it. The three companions felt a nameless dread but being practical men they pushed it aside. It was the only shelter they had.

'Storms comin',' said Rude.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The cave went deep. They went far enough that they were two twists of the tunnel away from the entrance, so the wind couldn't reach them. The light couldn't reach them either and they sat staring at their tiny lamp as Cloud hugged his bandaged chest to keep warm. The ancient darkness was engaged in a battle with their little light and Cloud felt that the older of the powers was winning.

'How're your fingers?' Reno asked him.

'They hurt.'

'That's good.'

Cloud glanced up at him and saw that he was serious.

Reno elaborated. 'If you can feel them at all that means you're probably going to keep them. If they're still numb...'

The swordsman held up his gloved hands and flexed painfully, showing Reno how far he could move them. He didn't want to say anything, but he couldn't feel the tips. 'They seem alright,' Reno said. 'Now how about your toes?'

Cloud groaned. He'd been trying not to think about them. 'Bad.'

Rude's face was unreadable beneath his sunglasses. 'Bad how?'

The blond man frowned into his scarf. 'Some hurt, some don't.'

The bald Turk leaned forward. 'And the ones that don't? They're just fine?'

There was a moment of silence. 'I just can't feel them. They're like dead wood.'

Reno swore softly. Rude gestured to his boots. 'Take them off. Let me see.'

Cloud's toes were white, as if someone had sprinkled salt on them. 'That's the start of frostbite,' Rude said. 'Your socks are wet. Here, I have some dry ones.' He threw some green socks to Cloud and they felt brand new.

'Is there anything we can do?' Cloud asked.

Rude shrugged. 'Just put on the dry socks. Pray.' After a moment he added: 'I think your bigger toes are gonna be ok. I think your little ones are gonna have to come off. We'll see when we get back to Bone Village.'

Cloud licked his broken lips. 'That's fine.'

The Turks exchanged glances and Cloud put the socks on. 'So...' Reno began. 'I'm not gonna ask you about Highwind.'

The swordsman paused for a second, then continued tying his laces as if he hadn't heard.

'But you've really put us at ease there. There are a few people back in Midgar who...' he glanced at Rude, 'Not us, you understand? But some people who think you... You know...'

Rude's face was a blank mask. 'People were saying you might have Seperatist sympathies.'

Reno winced. 'But now they know better.'

'Yeah.'

Cloud let the silence drag. After a while he said, 'Ok.'

Reno fidgeted with his gloves, pulling them off and putting them back on again one finger at a time. 'You know you're my responsibility, Cloud?'

'I know.'

'So why the fuck did you wander off into a frozen wasteland?' The Turk's voice was low. Not many people knew it, but Reno got quieter when he was angry. He was usually quite a loud guy, so no one knew. Not many people had ever seen him angry. 'You could've died. We could've died trying to save your ass. What was so damn important?'

Cloud met his gaze for a moment but found that he couldn't keep it. The swordsman looked away. He couldn't tell if it was the weight of the Turk's anger that had driven it away, or the weight of the pink cloth in his pocket. 'A monster.'

The head of the Turks frowned and cracked his knuckles. He looked deeper into the cave for a moment and when he looked back the tension was gone from his face, as if the conversation had never happened. 'What next, Rude?'

'That storm could last for a long time, boss. The locals said that they were due for a big one.'

'A big one? How big is a big one? How long are we gonna be stuck here?'

'...A day? Maybe more?'

Reno swore softly. 'Well, I guess we'd better settle down.' He took what looked like coal out of rucksack and piled it in the middle of the floor. There were only six pieces but Cloud knew they would be enough. They were Hojo's last useful invention before he went mad. Rude shot a small jet of Fire at the pile and they glowed and held the essence of the flame long after his spell finished. They would be as hot and bright as a small camp fire for eight to twelve hours. 'Get closer, Cloud. And get some sleep.'

Cloud gladly did as he was told. Just as he was getting comfortable Rude got to his feet and looked deeper into the cave. 'Where do you think those people went?'

'Huh?' said Reno, using his bag as a pillow.

'The footprints. They finished outside the cave.'

The red-haired Turk sat up and looked into the impenetrable darkness. 'Oh yeah. We'll keep a look out. You can go first.'

Rude, aware that he was the only person on his feet, shrugged. 'Ok. I'm just gonna take a look around the next corner.'

Reno yawned. 'Get back here doublequick if you see anything.'

The bald Turk took a few steps and disappeared into the murk. 'Yeah,' came Rude's voice, as if from very far away.

Cloud's eyelids drooped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Cloud went from lying down to sitting up against his will and he had just enough energy left to groan.

'Where is he?' A big bald man with a torch was hovering over him. 'Where's Reno?'

The embers had died away. How long had he been sleeping? His chest hurt as though it had a hole in it and his bandage was sticky. He shook his head to clear it.

'I don't know,' he said. He brushed Rude's hands off his shoulders and found, to his surprise, that he could stand. He had never ached so badly in his life, he felt as if he'd been eaten up and shat out by the Midgar Zolom. 'What happened?'

Rude clenched and unclenched his fists and, Cloud was surprised to note, ground his teeth. He'd never seen him like this before. He was very agitated, worried even. 'I went down that corridor there for five minutes, tops. I come back here and the fires gone out, the blizzards finished and Reno is gone. That fire was supposed to last at least eight hours. It's a damn guarantee, man. How do you explain that, huh?'

Cloud stretched like a sore cat. 'Maybe he went outside?'

Rude shook his head. 'The ways blocked. That boulders in the way.'

The spiky haired man stopped halfway through trying to touch his toes. He stood straight and blinked at the Turk. 'What? That thing was huge.'

Cloud found that it was true though. The boulder was blocking the way and doing it perfectly. There were no cracks or holes where light could shine through. It was as though the boulder had been made to fit the entrance.

'Well he didn't come this way.' Cloud said, stroking his chin.

The bald man shrugged helplessly. 'I know, right?'

They went back to where they had rested, searching for any sign of Reno. His bag was there, along with a few strands of red hair. If there'd been a struggle there was no sign of one now and, besides, surely Cloud would have woken up? He was hurt but he wasn't a light sleeper even at the best of times. The darkness of the cave pressed down on Cloud's head like the finger of a god planting seeds.

'There's no way he went past you on your way back?' Cloud asked.

Rude shook his head. 'It's a tunnel. No way I could've missed him.'

They turned and looked deeper into the cave. Even with Rude's torch it seemed impenetrably dark and Cloud suddenly felt that he was in the belly of a beast, never to see sunlight again.

'I guess we should look for him...' Cloud said.

'Yeah...' said Rude.

As they went forwards the bald Turk shone his torch on the walls, looking for a side passage or anything that could tell him where his partner was. He stopped moving when he felt Cloud's hand on his arm.

'Up,' Cloud said.

Rude shone his torch up and swore softly.

There were red footprints on the roof. It was as though seven people had walked chaotically on the roof of the cave directly over Cloud and Reno as they slept and then... became eight. The footprints led further down into the bowels of the cave but Cloud and Rude weren't sure that they wanted to follow them, even if they led to Reno. They'd both fought bad odds before but it wasn't very often that they'd fought people with such a sense of theatre, whom cared nothing of living in perfect darkness or ignoring gravity.

'How're you feeling?' Rude asked finally.

Cloud added about twenty percent to his estimate. 'About sixty percent fit.'

Rude sighed. 'That'll have to do.'

They gathered all the supplies that they could take with them and walked into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Nothing is darker than subterranean darkness. Midnight with no moon has nothing on it. Forget sleeping masks. The darkness that exists under the earth is pierced by no light source except one that you bring with you. On the surface there is always something, a star, a lamp or some bioluminescence that can be used as a reference point. Under the ground there is nothing.

With this in mind, Cloud and Rude became very worried as their torch ran began to flicker like a candle in a gale. 'Why didn't you bring spare batteries?' Cloud asked.

'I did. They're already in.' Rude didn't look at his spiky haired companion.

'What?'

'The first one ran down just as fast. It's this cave, man.'

Cloud shuddered. The cave twisted and turned and went deeper and deeper into the earth. Every now and then they saw strange writing on the wall, always red. It was written in some sort of pictograms; he couldn't read them and he was glad he couldn't, even though knowing what they said could've helped his situation. It was impossible to tell if they were written in ancient blood or ancient paint, but it was definitely red. Above him the footprints, equally red, led onward and as they followed them they went from the trail of eight people to seven... From seven to six... From six to five...

'What does it mean?' The swordsman muttered, more to himself than Rude.  
Rude was quiet for a long time, so long that Cloud thought he didn't have anything to say. Then, 'I dunno.'

The torch lit less of the tunnel with each few yards that they took, it was running down at an alarming, unnatural rate. Cloud knew he could always fall back on his Fire materia but it was a wasteful way of lighting the way and he would like to keep some MP ready in case they encountered anything dangerous on their trip through the underworld. As they went on Cloud became certain that they would. He drew his sword and rested it on his shoulder, ready to slice at anything that jumped from the shadows. Rude cracked his knuckles every time they approached a turn in the tunnel.

Their battery dwindled and the torch shot out an ever narrower beam of light until it was nothing but a pale ribbon, making rocks into the ghosts of rocks and themselves into lost, spectral versions of the men they were.

But at least it wasn't cold.

Rude slapped the torch and swore. It coughed out one last blast of visibility and then died. The Turk made to smash it on the wall but stopped himself, muttering something like, 'fear is the mind killer.' Cloud's Fire materia glowed a magical green in the pommel of sword and he decided to keep it like that rather than actually shoot a jet of fire in front of him. They couldn't see very far this way but at least it saved MP. They had one ether each but they didn't want to rely on them given their experience with the battery. Who knew if ether would be as effective down here as it was on the surface? Nothing else was. Not even time.

The tunnel narrowed until they had to shuffle along sideways, grunting. The writing became thicker and thicker, covering the walls in erratic patterns that made Cloud's head swim and his eyes lose focus. Were they some sort of warning left by the Ancients? Or were they the language of some race of subterranean devils, draining the intruders' sanity like Osmosis drained magic? The pictograms grew more elaborate but appeared to be written in haste, or mania, by some psychotic calligrapher. Cloud's body failed to wipe the writing off the walls as it passed by it and he felt an extreme tension steal through him. If they were attacked now, pinned in this tiny space, they would be torn to pieces.

The footprints over their heads became crowded into the small space that they were passing through, making no attempt to hide their numbers by stepping on each other as they had appeared to be doing outside. All the same Cloud could see that the numbers were dwindling even more, the footprints becoming sparser and sparser above him.

Suddenly the tunnel opened into a very wide space. The light of Cloud's materia only lit a couple of meters ahead of him but he could sense that it was vast like nothing he had ever felt before, like he was in a cathedral built from the bones of the earth. He shot Fire 3 out into the darkness, rightly guessing that anything less than that would just be drowned by the shear size of the place.

The massive space was visible in a flash of orange and white and then it disappeared again into primeval blackness, the same it had been hidden in for perhaps thousands of years.

But that flash had been enough for Cloud. Bones of impossible size, of creatures of terrible appetites littered the floor and jutted from the walls. Whatever they were, whenever they had lived, they were dead now and Cloud again had the impossible sensation that he was inside the belly of a great monster, one which had eaten those beasts and now he was questing through its bowels. The floor was sandy, like a black beach, and in the middle sat a still lake of deep, dark water. In that lake was an island, of rocks or bones the swordsman couldn't tell, and on that island was an altar.

A single pair of red footprints led across the roof of the cave, terminating directly above the altar.

Rude was breathing deeply but found that he had nothing to say.

'Follow me,' said Cloud after a heavy moment, wriggling his fingers on the hilt of his sword.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

They edged forward wearily, trying to squint past the dull, green glow of their materia. They could make out the sinister shapes of the giant skeletons, poking through the inky blackness. Huge ribs overhung them like the fingers of a huge vampire, ready to scrape them off the sandy floor and into its gaping, black mouth.

'This is no good,' muttered Rude, putting an arm in front of Cloud. 'We could be walking into anything down here.'

The spiky haired man rested his sword on his shoulder, straining his eyes in the direction of the invisible altar. 'What do you suggest?'

'Fire 3.'

Cloud frowned. 'Won't that just bring whatever took Reno down on us twice as fast?'

The bald man glanced over, half his face in the green mako-glow of the materia, the other half invisible in the dark. 'Whatever lives down here doesn't need to light to move around. Its pitch black down here.'

Night vision goggles and nocturnal creatures which rely on eyesight are usually very sensitive to any quantity of light, even very small amounts that the human eye would struggle to register and amplifying it. But in pitch black like this, the absence of all light, they would've been just as blind as Cloud and Rude, as it's impossible to amplify nothing. So they must hunt by hearing or smell, Cloud saw Rude's reasoning. The natives of this cave knew exactly where the intruders were, lit up or not. So they may as well light the place up.

Rude raised his hands and began to glow. Soon afterwards there was a sound the like the crack of a giant whip and a fireball erupted above them. For a moment the world was lit by a the orange gaze of a fire god and Cloud found himself standing before the jaws of a long dead monster, as if it was the entrance to the world's grizzliest theme park. He was no archaeologist but he felt certain that this had been some kind of deep-sea predator, rows of bleached teeth beckoned him forwards like the many coral swords of a legendary duellist. After a moment of panic he realised that the creature wasn't going to come to life and eat him and he looked for any signs of actual, living danger.

Just as the cold hands of darkness closed around the dying embers of Rude's spell, throttling the life out of it, Cloud's eyes were caught by movement by the altar.

He saw, through a maze of smashed ribs and shattered skulls, a white figure stood by the altar with her back to him, naked. A long braid fell past her waist and she glanced over her shoulder at him as she climbed on the altar and laid herself down on it. He was too far away to see her expression. And then it was dark.

'Did you see that?' Rude breathed.

Cloud frowned. 'Yes.'

There was a moment before Rude answered. 'How did it get up there?'

The spiky haired man didn't say anything.

'Why didn't it fall?'

'You're talking about the roof.' Cloud said finally, craning his neck uselessly.

'Yeah. Aren't you?'

The blonde man sighed. His fingers were starting to itch, right down to their tips. 'The altar.'

'Oh.'

'Cast another spell,' Cloud said. 'Please.'

Fire 3 blossomed over their heads and Cloud saw a shadowy figure hanging from the roof as if he had his own personal gravity source. The thing watched them as intently as they watched it, but its mouth gaped open like a robbed tomb and its eyes were as empty as the long-rotted eyes of the sea serpents which lay around the chamber. The girl was still laid on the altar, staring up with her hands across her breasts.

The two intruders stood in low fighting stances, ready to hit out at anything that tried to grab them or moved too suddenly or even made the mistake of existing in this vile place.

'Did you see it?' Rude asked.

'Yeah,' said Cloud.

'Did it look at you too?'

'Yeah.'

Rude sighed. 'Do you think it took Reno?'

'I guess,' Cloud ground his teeth. 'Let's get going. To the altar.'

'What's down there?' Rude asked after a few careful steps.

The spiky haired man considered his answer. 'You didn't see?'

'It looked empty to me.'

Cloud thought about this for a long time, the pink cloth in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever. 'Me too,' he said. He probed the dark with his sword like a blind man as he went forward and Rude followed him, trying not to trip over the bones of the fallen monsters.

They followed the gradient of the floor downwards until they could hear the gentle lapping of the water a short distance ahead of them. Cloud shot Fire 3 into the sky and saw the girl-thing laid there on the altar, staring straight up at that creature which only had eyes for the visitors in its realm. What was the relation? Cloud wondered to himself. Was this thing sending the sirens out? Had it been trying to bring him here all along? So why the giants? He was certain he would have followed the ghost of his dead... friend all the way to this cave so why the ambush? To give Rude and Reno a chance to catch up? Cloud didn't understand.

The water was impregnable to his eyes but not his sword. He probed it and found that it was shallow enough to walk through, it only came up to his waist at its deepest. They felt as vulnerable as a baby left out for the vultures as they crossed, always on the brink of blasting their nastiest spells skyward at the least provokation. As he and Rude came out of the water Cloud shot Fire 2 into the air, feeling that as he was so close to altar any more would've been overkill.

In the flash of warmth and light Cloud saw that the ceiling-walker was no longer on the ceiling. He stood leering at the blonde warrior from hardly a meter away; totally silent, totally scentless. It lunged face first at him and Cloud swung his sword.

But too late.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: I don't know if some people are going to find this chapter disappointing, but please bear with it. It's the penultimate chapter and I feel that the last chapter makes it worthwhile. I'll put the last one up some time next week, I hope. I've already written the first draft, I just need to give it another look over before I put it up here.**

**Chapter 8**

Rude slipped backwards into the water and came up spluttering. He couldn't see anything but he knew that the thing with the nightmare face was there somewhere, lurking just out of sight. He tried to cast Fire 3 but rather than blasting from his palm it coughed out like a geriatric on twenty cigarettes a day. It was a weak spark, but it was strong enough for the bald man to confirm what he had been afraid of.

Cloud was gone. And the silhouette of the ceiling-walker was plainly visible, standing over him and, presumably, staring straight at him with those empty eye-holes and gaping mouth.

The Turk had watched as the light from Cloud's spell died, helpless as the thing lunged at his companion and waved its crimson cloak over him. That was all it took, one dramatic flourish and the swordsman was gone as if he had dropped through a well-conceiled trap door.

The water began to shine softly, or rather some of the stones on the lake bed began to shine softly, and suddenly Rude could see the figure clearly. By most people's standards it would have been tall but it wasn't by Rude's. Rude stood up wearily, all the time wondering, 'is it just a man in a mask?'

It was definitely a man in a mask. The proportions were unmistakeable. But that didn't reduce Rude's dread. This man in a mask had walked on ceilings effortlessly and had made Cloud, the world's saviour, vanish with a flick of the wrist. And it had been walking around down here for who knew how long, in perfect darkness. He couldn't bring himself to think of it as a man. Just a thing in a man-suit.

It took a step towards him, leering from just beyond the rim of the lake. It stared him down for a very long moment and if Rude had had hair on his head it would've stood on end. He wriggled his fingers beneath the water line in case he had to punch something quickly. Eventually, it reached out a hand to the Turk and beckoned him to come closer.

Rude frowned and ground his teeth. What to do? He had no chance if he was to fight it whilst he was in the water, it was too fast and it could jump to far. It could leap from one side of the lake to the other, right over his head. Possibly taking his head with it. But he didn't want to get any closer to it. He realised suddenly that he had no MP, something was draining him silently. But he had an ether... If he could just take it perhaps he would stand a chance...

The thing in the mask took a step back, standing on the balls of its feet. Then it took another and Rude could see the altar in the light of the shining lake. There was a figure lying there and the Turk could see a face in profile. The thing beckoned him forwards, with the grace and formality of a courtier or a waiter at the most high-end restaurant in the universe. Rude stepped out of the water wearily, everything below his waist numb, and eyed the masked figure and then the figure on the altar.

It was Reno. He was exactly how Rude had last seen him, wearing the same arctic gear with his red hair sticking out of his hat at odd angles, but he looked slightly happier. There was a slightly less grim set to the corners of his mouth, as if the burden of command had been lifted from him. Rude watched closer and realised it wasn't just the burden of command that had been lifted; it was the burden of life. His best friend's chest was immobile, his face pale. But he looked happier than he had seen him in years. He may be happier dead, reasoned Rude, but he'd be happier still if he was avenged...

'Drama.'

Rude almost jumped out of his skin. The numbness in his legs had been slowly vanishing but now, at the sound of that dead voice, it leapt up his back and into his scalp. The thing in the mask was talking at him.

'What?' asked Rude, turning slowly to face it.

'Do you think this is very dramatic?' The voice didn't come from the creature but seemed to vibrate in the air around him. If there was a mouth under that mask it didn't need to move for its owner to speak.

'Killing my friend? Yeah, very dramatic.' The Turk clenched and unclenched his gloved hands. He gave up on the idea of the ether. He was just about close enough that, if he leapt, he could get his hands around the thing's neck and squeeze its head off like toothpaste from an old tube.

'Killing is just killing. It is the manner of the killing that is important.' The voice was somewhere between fingernails on a blackboard and a glacier carving a path through a cold, dead valley. Rude watched its hands flutter like butterflies as it spoke, as if they didn't belong to a strange subterranean killer at all, but the greatest stage magician of them all. 'Look at the surroundings. Look. The bones of monsters, the altar of an alien god. And in this cavern of all caverns, a cavern of such history. It is... Auspicious.'

Rude edged closer, watching the ceiling-walker with his peripheral vision. 'Dead is dead.' As his dad had always said.

'No. No, it is not. Not here. Not now.'

There was a flicker of movement on the altar as Reno's hands began to twitch. Rude froze. His friend's eyes shot open like reversed bear traps and he coughed and spluttered, his hands clawing at his throat. Rude held his shoulders, half to reassure his boss in his hour of need and half to reassure himself that it was really happening.

'He's alive?!' the bald Turk gasped and turned to look at the creature.

'He is, now. But he was very dead a moment ago. Life can be just dramatic as death, you see, even though it is as simple as turning an hour-glass on its head. And I am all for drama.'

'I don't understand,' said Rude, propping Reno's head with his bag of supplies.

'Your friend means nothing to me. And if it isn't personal then... it isn't drama. No matter how well the scenario is set, no matter how good its lighting and its build up.'

Rude was tense, suddenly unsure if this whole conversation was some prelude to some even more dramatic death. Bring Reno back to life and kill them both as they hold each other? It seemed capable of it. 'It felt pretty personal.'

The thing laughed as if the conversation was over. 'Where would you like to go? This cavern is linked by ancient magic to several other sites. It is not a problem.'

'Then why? Why lead us here? Why kill Reno? Why bring him back?'

'Why make the swordsman vanish?' The creature suggested.

'Yes.'

The ceiling-walker gave a graceful gesture devoid of meaning, flicking his wrist at the empty cavern beyond their small aura of light. 'Drama, my friend. There can be drama in death, drama in life... But some deaths, and lives, are far more dramatic than others.'

'So Cloud's death will be...' Rude hesitated, '...dramatic?'

'Cloud's death is a long way off... But I'm sure it will be. He is not the victim today. I have something far more personal in mind.'

Light filled the cavern and the ceiling-walker laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

'I missed you.'

The room was dazzlingly bright to Cloud's cave-worn eyes. All he could see was an indistinct barrage of lights, mostly white, pink and blue. He shielded his face with his forearm and squinted fiercely. When he closed his eyes the insides of his eyelids were a burning red.

'I always think of you.'

Cloud lowered his arm as his eyes adjusted to the light and took his sword in two hands. His vision cleared and he suppressed a gasp. He was on a pedestal surrounding by clear water. From the water stood gleaming white pillars and walls of glowing rocks. The roof was made of some sort of diamond and sunlight shone through, refracted into many colours. Some of the pillars lowered themselves organically and made themselves into a staircase. He was in the City of the Ancients, kneeling in the exact place she had kneeled, ten years before...

There were old blood stains on the floor. Ten years old.

'Do you think of me?'

She stood at the top of the staircase of white, hexagonal pillars, smiling down at him. Her cheeks were dimpled, her eyes bright and innocent. Her auburn hair came down to her willowy waist. She was naked, just as she had been on the snow.

She was not what she pretended to be, Cloud knew. But did it matter? He ground his teeth and his vision swam red. Yes, it did. It mattered. More than anything. He couldn't let some creature use her form this way, to tempt him and anyone else, to lead him on a chase and threaten his life. She had been the purest person he had ever met. This just wasn't... Fair. It was agony for him to look at her again after all this time, but it would be worse to do what he had to do next.

He leapt to the bottom step, then the second, holding his sword as tightly as his nerveless hands allowed. 'Cloud?' she said as he landed on the third step. By the fourth her face changed to that look of terror from when he killed the ice-giants and by the fifth she turned and ran.

Cloud reached the top of the stairs, blind to the exotic fish which swam in the air around him as if they were deep under the sea. He caught a glimpse of her just as a great orange fighting fish, as big as one of the skeletons from the mysterious cavern but less menacing, blocked his vision and she was gone. He sprinted after her.

He came to that dark tunnel which led out to the world above, the one with the still, cold lake that he laid her to rest in, that final time. The siren was nowhere to be seen but he ran on, sure she was ahead of him. When he was halfway down the tunnel he heard a noise behind him and he stopped dead his tracks, checking the weight of his sword. The siren didn't frighten him, so he felt no need to spin quickly. No need to look at it longer than necessary.

There was a splash as something crawled from the lake, the sound of someone gasping and coughing as they pulled themselves onto the path. Cloud willed himself to turn and look but he couldn't. He knew that when he turned he would have to kill it and it would be unbearable now that the heat of his anger was fading. He breathed deeply, trying to fan the flames to the levels they had reached as he ran across the snow. He thought of a black-caped man descending from a roof made of diamonds and his blood boiled black with rage. He turned.

The siren kneeled, breathing deeply. Its hair was waterlogged, its pink clothes were tatty and soggy, as if they really had been under the water for ten years. The girl in those clothes was immaculate, however. The green eyes that turned up to look at him were the perfect simile of a confused, lost girl. 'Cloud? What...' she looked bewildered, then suddenly hopeful. 'Did it work? Did Holy work?'

Cloud stepped towards her. 'Cloud?' she asked, hesitantly. 'Are you ok?'

'Cloud?' she took his hand and he heaved her to her feet. 'Thank you,' she smiled shyly and stood on uncertain legs, as though she hadn't used them in a long time. He fought the urge to hold her. He wouldn't hold a monster, no matter how nicely it was wrapped.

He swung the sword and she didn't think to raise her hands to stop him. Her head flung from her shoulders and blood spurted after it, as if he had squeezed a ketchup packet too hard. Before her body could fall he spun and smashed it with the flat of his blade, sending it flying into the lake. Her hands had come up then, just as his blade was about to connect that second time, showing him her palms as if he had asked her a difficult question. There was a splash as her body hit the water and a second later her head followed, having bounced off a far wall. Cloud took the pink cloth from his pocket and wiped his sword with it.

After a moment he tied it to a post like a red-spotted flag and held his face in his hands, massaging the stiff muscles around his mouth and eyes. They didn't feel like his. He felt like a stranger to his own face.

This was unforgivable. To make her into a succubus was one thing, a travesty even, given her character in life, but to make her like this... So vulnerable, so lost, to make it so terrible for him to do what had to be done, was unforgivable. First he would resupply in Bone village, then he would go back to that cave and he would stalk its corridors like that silver-haired man stalked his own mind.

He strode from the tunnel without looking at the lake. He didn't even glance behind him so he didn't see the white hand stroking the pink cloth and staining the end of its fingers with the blood speckled on it. He didn't see the naked girl smiling after him with cold, green eyes. He saw nothing. Because he didn't want to.


End file.
